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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892780">move</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/imyourwolf/pseuds/imyourwolf'>imyourwolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Childhood Friends, F/F, Long-Distance Relationship, but keeping it real, depending on how nice i am, here to collect tears, need tears to summon jibo vlive, perhaps fluff but who knows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:41:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/imyourwolf/pseuds/imyourwolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never more than friends, but it felt wrong to give it a name.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Bora | SuA/Kim Minji | JiU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>move</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello friends, another jibo from me, yes.  inspired by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0R8IbpKXavM&amp;ab_channel=MINOFFICIAL">my new favorite vietnamese song</a> (check it out and turn on subs).  i'm going for a different vibe here as compared to the last... haven't written this kind of angst in a while, so i hope you all enjoy to your "fullest" &lt;3</p><p>thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticbora">chaoticbora</a> for many reasons &lt;3 check out her works for more jibo food</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Minji, I’m seeing someone.”</p><p>The pause carried the white noise in her apartment like sirens.  On the stove, the whisper of the kettle blared in perfect sync with all her collective brain cells working together to… work.  It was deafening, suddenly, until the woman on the phone spoke again, her voice like velvet, quieter than usual, cautious almost, as if they were both dreading on a very thin tightrope.</p><p>“Did you hear me?”</p><p>Minji snapped out of her trance and answered quickly, “Yeah, I heard you, Bora.”</p><p>She didn’t want to hear it again, didn’t want it to be repeated.</p><p>“...So...?” Bora started again, hesitation lingering in her dragged out pause in rhythm with the odd silence on the other line.  </p><p>It was strange for her to ask permission, she never did, never had to.  But Minji knew when Bora could sense something was off.  She had always been the keen one.  </p><p>(Ironically.) </p><p>Curiosity had a way of the mind, and Minji should have known better.  It was already eating at her, as if both angels on her shoulder were whispering of ill advices.</p><p>Then she gave in –</p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>-</p><p><em> “Hey Minji, listen, I graduated!  Four years of hell but I did it!  Go buy soju!  Let’s Zoom and chill </em> – <em> Friday night, yeah?  I want to celebrate with you.” </em></p><p><em> “My roommate </em> – <em> you remember Yoohyeon? </em> – <em> well, she got a puppy and she’s so cute!  Let me send you pictures.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Minji, guess what, some friends and I got together and opened a dance studio.  It’s a big investment, but I have a good feeling about this.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Hey, did you see?  My first choreography video is uploaded!  Oh </em> – <em> what, are you going to watch it right now? Oh no, I’m nervous.  What do you mean why?  Because it’s </em> you <em> , dummy.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Minji.  Minji.  Minji.  Nothing, I just like how your name sounds.” </em>
</p><p>Bora called Minji for almost everything.  She wanted Minji to always be the first to know.  </p><p>They were never more than friends, but it felt wrong to give it a name.  </p><p><em> “Soulmates?” </em> Bora joked once, but it stuck with Minji.  In the back of mind, she’d like to think that was true.</p><p>The memory was vivid, tears staining both their cheeks, eyes red and nose stuffed, skin freezing upon winter’s touch.  Nothing felt shorter and more precious than the last hour they had clung onto each other in the middle of the airport, unable to let go.  They didn’t dare to say the words, “goodbye”; it would make the moment too real, too much.  After a decade, being in each other’s presence had been more than just a routine.  It was almost as if the years onward would feel surreal and unbearable.</p><p>(But life went on, <em> pushed </em> on, and it wasn’t as bad as their fragile hearts made it out to be.)</p><p>Minji was an idealist, living in dreams and driving on hope; and yet, Bora was a realist.</p><p>For them both, it was an unspoken rule to never make promises.  Promises were loopholes for disappointment.</p><p>And for Minji, Bora was her first of many things.  First passenger on the seat of her new car.  First contact on her phone to be saved with an emoji.  First supporter of her insane dreams for the big city.  First girl she had kissed.  First person who taught her what it felt like to fall in love.</p><p>Kim Bora, Minji’s first love.</p><p>(Yet, the first never meant it could be the last.)</p><p>Minji never confessed, not explicitly.  But she did poorly to hide her feelings well, or rather, she did not want to.  </p><p>And Minji still dreamed about it from time to time, the last night before Bora left for the States.  She had stayed over at Minji’s apartment, cuddling close on the small bed that barely fit their bodies, underneath a large comforter too big for them both.  There was a pause after the subsiding laughter and jokes and what seemed to be the fifth “good night”, as if sleeping then would break the spell and speed up the secondhand of the whispering clock on the wall.  Perhaps it was the cold weather that had hands gravitating bodies closer, perhaps it was the anxiety in the indefinite that created a desire to gap any distance, or perhaps it was the scent of fresh mint toothpaste.  And for whatever the reason could be, they shared a kiss – brief, chaste, mutual.  The next morning, then the next days, then came the years, it was as if it had never happened.</p><p>Minji’s feelings of first love romance were gone by the second year of Bora’s absence.  Or at least, they <em> felt </em> gone.</p><p>Adulting, itself, was a full-time job, and both became busy with life, circumstances, flings… <em> things</em>.  Bora focused on her studies, and Minji on her corporate ambitions.  The calls happened less, but never missed.  They grew accustomed to new routines, still trying to fit into each other’s lives like an anchor.  (Bora laughed when she spotted a clock on Minji’s desk from a video call one night.  It was labeled with her name and dialed to her timezone.  Then she showed Minji a similar clock by her bedside; the time read of Minji’s.)  It could never feel distant, as if they were never apart.  </p><p>Bora’s voice always felt like home.  And home was home, no matter how long or how far.  </p><p>And just that, four years went by.</p><p>It had been two months since Bora last told Minji about her new girlfriend – Handong, she recalled, an “alluring and enchanting woman with a great fashion sense”, met in a dance class Bora led.  When the photos started appearing on social media, Minji chose to detach herself altogether.  It was not like Bora had never dated anyone within the four years since she left, but there was something different, <em> serious </em>, this time, hinted by the uncharacteristic shyness itching in her voice whenever Bora would tell of her stories.  </p><p>Eventually, Minji had stopped answering Bora’s calls as frequently, texting excuses that she had been busy with work since her new promotion.  For the first time in four years, Minji let the phone ring through its last tone and straight to voicemail.</p><p>Minji blamed the unsteady drumming in her chest to the spontaneous runs she took around the neighborhood.  She then blamed the sick furling of knots in her stomach to the expired food that she mindlessly cooked at 3am.  She blamed, also, the sting in her eyes the next morning to her stupid decision of staying awake until the crack of sunrise, doing nothing but binging the old shows she used to watch with Bora.</p><p>But really, it hurt all over.</p><p>-</p><p>
  <em> “I’m coming over.”  </em>
</p><p>Minji blinked the one eye she barely had opened.</p><p>
  <em> Bora. </em>
</p><p>She blinked again, opening both of her eyes now, squinting hard at the screen to read the text.</p><p><em> “I’m coming over,” </em> it clearly said, a text from Bora that Minji never thought she would receive on a random Wednesday morning in the middle of November.</p><p>It was not unusual for them to speak as if the windows to their homes were just a step into the backyard.  Though, this <em> felt </em> unusual.</p><p>Brushing it off, Minji pegged it as a joke, falling back to sleep and tugging her phone under her pillow.  The missed calls and voicemails notifications for the last two weeks were still there, in bold and red; she never had the heart to clear them, yet could never find the will to return them.</p><p>-</p><p>There was an inherent fear that, someday, Minji won’t pick up.  That all Bora would hear were the dial tones, trumpeting with each echoing ring, burring in the silence and dragging of impatience and anxiety.  It became a habit to countdown the seconds before that resounding <em> click </em> and that welcoming whisper of a soft voice, sometimes groggy at the break of dawn, but all the time loving and comforting and warm.</p><p>It was a hobby that Bora missed, to read the messages Minji would send with her eyes.  It was hard to pretend not to know.  And it was harder to pretend she wasn’t going away.</p><p>-</p><p>Minji blinked awake when she heard clanking of metals thumping against the stove just a wall away.  Then came a squeaking noise; the second cabinet from the left had been open, the home to her many stacks of instant ramyun.  The hinge inside had been broken (overused, probably), making the sound distinguishable.  It was only a full minute later that the door to the cabinet was closed, Minji counted (or was that her anxiety ticking?)  The smell of food seeped in the cracks – Malatang...?  <em> No way </em> , she didn’t remember keeping the leftovers from the weekend. Then there were footsteps, faint but decisive, roaming back and forth from the kitchen tiles to the living room’s wooden floor, as if searching for something.  Or things.  </p><p>Someone else was in Minji’s apartment, wearing <em> her </em> favorite fluffy slippers and shamelessly stealing <em> her </em> cup noodles and cooking in <em> her </em> home.</p><p>Thoughts stormed her mind as she eyed the wall separating her and the intruder like she was suddenly granted X-ray vision to see what was beyond the concrete.  Her family had never once visited without making an over-the-announcer fuss about their visit twenty-four hours beforehand, but would also never invite themselves in without Minji’s conscious presence.  And none of her friends had been close enough to know her home’s passlock.  Well, except… no, Minji shook the thought as quickly as it crossed her mind like it was impossible.</p><p>She then considered, for a hot second, of calling the police, when the sleep alarm blared like a suffocated siren underneath her pillow.</p><p>Minji reached for the device and frantically turned it off.</p><p>The noise outside paused.  Minji paused.  The <em>Bora</em> clock on her desk did not, ticking away.  She never knew just how loud it could be in silence.</p><p>Then the noise outside started up again a few brief seconds later, <em> nonchalantly </em>, less restrained, definitely more casually.  As if the daring intruder had no reason to be cautious now that Minji was aware.</p><p>Every fiber of Minji’s entire body should be panicking, but her instinct was telling her otherwise.</p><p>So she turned back to her phone, surprised when she saw the number of missed calls, unheard voicemails, and new messages had jumped from the last time she fell asleep.</p><p>All Bora’s.</p><p>
  <em> “I’m coming in.” </em>
</p><p>Minji blinked.  That was not the last message she remembered reading.  She quickly scrolled back, her mind reeling in an incomprehensible speed.</p><p>Just below the <em> “I’m coming over” </em>text was an estimated time of arrival and a map of Bora’s current location at the time, sent just an hour earlier, and a number of messages detailing the distance between Bora and her as she got closer and closer and–  As pieces come together, Minji had never felt more panic rushing to her brain.</p><p>Seoul.  Bora was in <em> Seoul</em>.</p><p>As if on cue, a sweet voice started singing from the kitchen, and Minji could recognize that voice more than her own.</p><p>Still in disbelief, Minji calmly got up from the mattress and took a deep breath.  She moved closer to the source of the sound.  Gripping tightly onto the knob, she glanced at the reflected shadow that peered beneath the slit of her bedroom door.  Then Minji opened it slightly, peering straight into the kitchen.  A woman, with her petite frame, was dancing freely in the kitchen, holding onto the ladle like a microphone, as she spun around Minji’s house like it’s her stage.</p><p>Correction – Bora was in her house.</p><p>Then it hit, the panic.  </p><p>Minji rushed to the bathroom, cleaning her face and brushing her teeth as she tried to check for any signs of overnight blemishes and evidence of fatigue.  She brushed her hair neatly, sprayed perfume, and put on light make-up, adding enough blush just to appear like she had not been sleeping for four hours every day for the last two weeks.  She dressed herself with new pajamas – the same one that Bora had once complimented when she saw Minji wore it on her birthday celebration through video call.</p><p>She then began to clean all the mess in her room – knowing that would be the first place Bora would ask Minji to take her – tidying up as much as her humanly body could handle, tossing clothes straight into the laundry basket in the restroom or flinging them into her closet as if it could swallow them like Narnia, dumping the trash littered on the floor, making the bed– God, she couldn’t remember the last time she even made the bed.</p><p>Minji checked the mirror again, then again, and again, and the butterflies raced to her heart like loops of a prayer circle, round and round and round. </p><p>Then she stepped out.</p><p>“Good morning, my lovely vampire.” </p><p>Minji could instantly feel the tears brimming in her eyes when she saw <em> her</em>.  Kim Bora, there, in front of Minji, in <em> her </em> apartment, wearing <em> her </em> favorite fluffy slippers, shamelessly stealing <em> her </em> cup noodles, cooking in <em> her </em> home… Bora wore a bright smile reaching from ear to ear, and she looked beautiful as ever.  And her voice, so sweet, so <em> present</em>.</p><p>“Hi…” Minji said, just above a whisper, the only coherent word she could muster at the moment.</p><p>As if she was still breathing in the scene like it was a dream, Minji stood in place, even when Bora was now approaching her.  The smaller girl cupped her hands on Minji’s cheeks, and Minji naturally leaned into the touch.  It felt warm, comforting, and familiar.  She didn’t even realize the tear she had held so strongly had fallen onto her cheek until Bora wiped it with her thumb.</p><p>Then she pinched Minji’s cheeks, hard, reminding the older girl that this was very much reality and the pain she was feeling on her skin really <em> hurt</em>.  Typical Bora behavior of breaking any sappy moments before it could reach its minute mark.</p><p>“Do you always look this good when you wake up or did you put on makeup just to greet me?”</p><p>Minji cracked a smile at the comment, removing Bora’s violent hands off her cheeks just to hold them in hers.  Bora smiled again, unable to hide her happiness behind her cheeky act.  Minji then gazed into Bora’s chocolate eyes as if the woman in front of her could disappear any second.</p><p>It felt surreal, the good kind.</p><p>“Welcome home.”</p><p>“I’m home.”</p><p>Minji recognized the signs all too well: the flutterings in her stomach, the pulsing in her veins, the tantrum in her heart, and she <em> knew</em>.</p><p>But how could you fall in love with the same person twice?</p><p>Unless, you had never stopped loving at all.</p>
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